


Moments Captured in Travel

by ActuallyRocketRaccoon



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyRocketRaccoon/pseuds/ActuallyRocketRaccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between the Shire and Erebor, there's home. And for Thorin, that home may come in the form of an unassuming little Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. Post-film, movie-verse. Bagginshield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hobbit fanfic, and I have no idea where the plot (or lack thereof) is going, so you'll have to bear with me. At this point, it's just what the title says: a series of thilbo moments along the road. It may extend up to the Battle of Five Armies, and even afterward, if I take pity on my own feels and make it AU. Until then, it's just a meaningless ball of fluff. Enjoy!

The first time Thorin saw the Hobbit, he knew he would be a liability. As much as the Dwarf trusted Gandalf, there was an innocence in the little creature's eyes that could not be ignored. It only took a glance for him to know that this Bilbo Baggins was no burglar. Most likely, the Hobbit had never lifted a weapon in his life; he was ill suited to the rough conditions that this quest would no doubt yield. As such, Thorin wasted no effort hiding his contempt at Gandalf's choice. There was no possible way this small, comfortable being could take his place as a member of the Dwarven Company. He was no warrior; it was obvious that he would be nothing but a burden. And to think that the Wizard would risk the life of such an innocent creature in a battle that was not his to fight— the Dwarf King was nothing short of disgusted.

Thorin's mistrust and fury at the situation lasted through the first leg of their journey. By the time his company fell prey to the Great Goblin, his frustration at their burglar's incompetence was great enough that he paid no thought to his fate. Indeed, the sullen Dwarf failed to notice Bilbo's absence until long after they had escaped the Goblins. In the face of Gandalf's anger, Thorin's stubborn nature reared up with a vengeance. It was the Wizard's fault that the Hobbit had come in the first place, and if he had met his death in the Mountain, well, that was not on Thorin's conscience. And yet, the Dwarf could not help the images that came, unbidden, into his mind; the Hobbit's wide, trusting eyes, pleading silently in fear. His kind features contorting in fear and pain as Goblin soldiers swarmed over him. The light leaving those same innocent eyes—

The Dwarf King mentally gave himself a violent shake. These visions were nothing but his vivid imagination. More likely, their burglar had fled like the coward he was, back to his warm hearth and the comfort of home. Something that Thorin himself could barely recall through memories of fire and the blood of his kin. If he was to be truly honest with himself, the Dwarf could not blame Master Baggins for escaping this life while he had the chance.

When Bilbo slipped into view, sporting his familiar domestic smile, Thorin could not suppress the jolt of relief that shot through him. Unconsciously, he had grown to trust the Hobbit, and his assumed abandonment felt more like a betrayal than anything. The Dwarf's voice was suspicious as he questioned his burglar's motives, but the Hobbit's answer was too simple and selfless to ignore. The hardened warrior felt his heart soften at the Hobbit's words, and he knew that his sentiment was shown openly on his face. While internally more homesick than ever, Thorin knew that Gandalf had been right about this creature. He was far greater than he appeared.

In his struggle to admit his mistake without losing face before his followers, Thorin was nearly grateful to the sudden appearance of the Orc Pack. In the following battle, any conflicting feelings for the Company's smallest member were swept from the Dwarf warrior's mind. Thorin was in his element, sword in hand, fighting for his friends. However, the tide was quickly turned against him. Gandalf ordered a retreat, and he had no choice but to obey. From the branches of the quivering fir tree, Thorin watched the appearance of his greatest foe. As the Pale Orc locked eyes with the Dwarf King, a malevolent smile contorting his scarred face, Thorin felt long-buried hatred burning within him. Without second thought, the Dwarf stood, sword and shield in hand, and strode out to face his foe. In retrospect, it was a supremely idiotic move. Within minutes, Thorin was battered and bruised, lying where the Warg had flung him, unable to move through his own shock and pain. As the Orc raised its blade above his head, the Dwarf resigned himself to his fate. He would never see his home again. His quest had ended in failure, at the hands of an enemy he had believed long dead.

His salvation came, of course, at the hands of the one he least expected. The last thing Thorin comprehended before his consciousness faded was the small form of the Hobbit, rushing at his attacker with sword raised. The last thought that squeezed through the filter of pain clouding his mind was for the Halfling's safety. The instant Thorin awoke, safe on the ridge many miles from the burning woods where the Company had been rescued, it was no surprise that the first words from his mouth were addressing Bilbo's safety. To the others, the surprise came in the form of their leader's sincere apology, his admittance of his mistake and his concern for his burglar. The Dwarves all held the Hobbit in highest regard, and all felt a rush of affection when Thorin scooped the little creature into his arms, wordlessly expressing his gratitude. And sure enough, when the Hobbit later expressed his optimistic opinion, that the worst was finally behind them, no one had the heart to correct him.

\---

The night after their rescue, Bilbo Baggins had dark dreams. Huddled with the rest of the Company in a sheltered cave below Great Shelf, the ridge where the eagles had dropped them, he shivered in his bedroll and tossed within the clutch of his nightmare. In his mind's eye, the Hobbit followed the path of the thrush he had witnessed earlier. He rushed along the countryside at impossible speeds, until he stood in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain. Melting through the rocky walls of Erabor, Bilbo found himself standing atop a vast pile of gold and jewels. Scanning the surrounding mountains of treasure, he noted with relief that the dreaded Fire Drake was nowhere to be seen. However, as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, the Hobbit felt the ground beneath him shudder and shift. Desperately scrambling for balance, he slid down to the floor, crouching defensively as the gold coins above him shifted aside. Slowly, the metal slid away, revealing the huge muzzle of the sleeping dragon.

Bilbo's breath caught in his throat, staring in awe at the blue-grey face of the creature before him. Smaug's skin was rippling with an internal heat, red and gold highlights glinting on the rough scales. As the Hobbit backed away in terror, breath still shallow and rasping, the nostrils of the dormant beast twitched ominously. Bilbo froze, staring in horror as the scaly eyelid before him flickered open, and he was transfixed by the steely gaze of a single huge, golden eye.

The Hobbit jolted awake, a strangled cry ripping from his chest. Around him, a few of the Dwarves were woken as well, and looked to him in concern.

"What's happening? Who's there?" Kili bolted upright in his bedroll, grabbing at his bow. His head knocked against the stone ledge above him, and he bent over, rubbing the bump on his skull and swearing under his breath.

"Is everything alright, Master Hobbit?" Balin asked worriedly from his place by the fire.

"I… I think so, yes," Bilbo replied, standing and making his way over to the older Dwarf. "It was just a bad dream. I think…" he hesitated, not sure how to voice his doubts, "I think I was wrong. I'm afraid the worst is far from over."

Balin nodded and clapped the Hobbit firmly on the shoulder. "Don't fret, Laddie. We've gotten this far, haven't we?"

Bilbo forced a smile and a nod. "Of course, I'm sure we'll be fine. I'm just going to get some fresh air." He walked out of the cave and up the ridge, and sat on an outcropping overlooking the forest below. He had to admit it was breathtaking. The trees rolled away into the distance, followed by flatlands and a landscape too distant to discern. Erabor rose up on the horizon, its solitary grandeur exuding an air of melancholy grace.

"Beautiful, isn't it." The Hobbit turned quickly at the familiar voice. Thorin stood behind him, gazing out at the mountain with a nostalgic sorrow. Bilbo realized at that moment that the Dwarf Lord radiated the same feeling as his former home; he was a mystery, stony and proud, his secrets hidden from the outside world. However, it was clear, even to an outsider, that both the Lonely Mountain and its living counterpart had seen much tragedy.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you walking up." Bilbo smiled up at Thorin, attempting to mask his revelation. However, the Dwarf knew the look in his companion's eyes; he had seen it in the eyes of many before.

"Do not pity me, burglar," he stated calmly. "I have had my share of sadness, but it has made me strong. I do not need your sympathy."

The Hobbit was quick to apologize; "I- I didn't mean to offend you! I only thought... I mean, I…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

As he stumbled for words to correct himself, Bilbo felt a warm weight settle about his shoulders. He blinked, tugging at the object. Thorin had draped his heavy cloak about the Hobbit, and was now settling down beside him.

"Do not apologize," he muttered gruffly, "there was no offence taken."

"Thank you," Bilbo murmured, tugging the Dwarf's cloak tighter around himself. It was large enough to engulf his small body, and the fur trimming tickled his neck. The Hobbit was reminded of his childhood, wrapped in his grandmother's quilt as she told him tales of his ancestor's adventures. To think that he, Bilbo Baggins, would grow up to see these far-off lands for himself, to fight Goblins and dine with Elves… sometimes he could scarce believe it.

Thorin's voice drew the Hobbit out of his musings. "There's nothing to thank me for. Can't have my thief catching cold, can I?" If Bilbo had not known his companion, he could have sworn he saw a smile playing at the edges of the Dwarf's mouth.

Thorin, for his part, was trying to force an affectionate grin from showing itself. The little Hobbit was bundled in his fur-lined cape like a child, blue eyes still shining with an echo of wonder. That anyone could survive as many battles as this Hobbit and still retain so much innocence and excitement, as though he was still curled by his warm hearth, reading fantastic novels of some imaginary hero. He does not realize that in this tale, he is the hero. The thought crept unbidden into Thorin's mind, and he turned quickly to hide his smile.

"Speaking of gratitude, I never thanked you for earlier." Thorin's head swiveled back to his companion, brow furrowing in confusion. "You know," Bilbo continued shyly, "for accepting me. I know you didn't trust me… I'm just glad you've realized that I really do want to help you."

"It was nothing," Thorin replied gruffly. He sincerely hoped the grime of travel hid his flushing cheeks. Standing quickly, the Dwarf clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and turned to leave, attempting to block the sincere shining of the little burglar's smile from his mind. The urge to pull the Hobbit into a second embrace, to hold him close and keep him from harm, was something that no warrior could afford to feel. Thorin strode quickly back towards camp; there were a few hours left until dawn, considering the emotional state of his mind, the Dwarf leader was in dire need of rest.

Back on the ledge, Bilbo called after Thorin's retreating back; "Wait, you forgot your…!" but the Dwarf was already out of sight. He clutched the cloak tighter about his shoulders, allowing himself a small smile; it seemed that his leader wasn't quite as detached as he appeared.


	2. Chapter 2

The Dwarves quickly noticed that Bilbo was becoming their leader's favorite member of the Company. Thorin would walk with him as they trekked through the forest, helping his shorter companion over roots and rocks, catching him by the elbow when he stumbled. At night, the Dwarf Lord would be sure to save the Hobbit a spot by the fire, and assemble his bedroll in close proximity to the other's. In fact, since their run-in with the Pale Orc, Thorin was rarely seen apart from his burglar.

And of course, there was the incident that a few of the Company had witnessed the morning they left the Great Shelf; as they packed their supplies and made ready to move out, Bilbo was seen passing Thorin a bundle that was quickly recognizable as the Dwarf's own fur cloak. The little Hobbit was smiling and blushing, and the Dwarf King was careful not to make eye contact as he swung the garment over his shoulders and handed the burglar a pack of provisions. This exchange, along with their leader's actions in the following weeks, caused quite a bit of gossip among the Company. Balin reasoned that Thorin was attempting to make up for the time he had spent resenting Bilbo by being overly kind. Several other dwarves, however, had a different theory.

"I've seen it before," Dwalin explained cheerfully one night, cleaning his battle hammer with a scrap of leather. "I was courting a maiden back in the Blue Hills, and she started following me everywhere. She wanted to do everything for me, and not that I was complaining, but it started to feel a bit odd. I didn't wish to take advantage of her innocent nature. I asked her about it, and she explained that no one before me had been so kind to her."

"So what you're saying," Fili hazarded, "is that our King has attached himself to someone he feels safe around… someone who's shown him kindness."

Dwalin nodded, tucking the heavy weapon back into his belt. "Aye, that's the gist of it. In simpler terms, Master Thorin has found a… friend in our burglar."

Kili's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "That's not how it sounded to me," he challenged. "Talking about your old lover like that, it seemed as though you were implying that there is something else between those two…" he trailed off doubtfully, not sure what to make of the older dwarf's words.

Dwalin simply laughed. "Nonsense, my friend! I would never presume to understand the depth of our leader's feelings. Master Bilbo is quite the charming fellow, but I know nothing of the situation." With a knowing wink, the bald Dwarf wandered away, humming under his breath. As the younger two turned to each other, his brother spoke, interrupting their speculations. "If you truly want to know Thorin's intentions for our little Hobbit, why don't you simply ask him?"

However, when confronted about the change in his demeanor, Thorin simply brushed it off in his usual, gruff way. "Just look at the creature," he grumbled, "he has the face of a child! The Hobbit may be brave, but he has no training whatsoever. He cannot hope to defend himself in a crisis."

Fili and Kili nodded in understanding. "Of course, so he needs a big, strong warrior like you to protect him." They instantly found themselves at the mercy of their leader's iciest glare. "I was goingto say," Thorin growled, "that he needs to be trained in combat. Now go make yourselves useful, or you'll be on guard duty for the next week." The brothers scampered to their duties, trying in vein to suppress their giggles. They knew their uncle better than most, and his affection for Master Baggins was blindingly clear to them.

\---

Over the next few days, Bilbo noticed a strange indifference in the behavior of his Dwarven friend. Thorin was aloof and detached once more, spending his time alone and sleeping apart from the others once more. The Hobbit had enjoyed his leader's company since the adventures of the Misty Mountains, and was openly disappointed that it had lasted so short a time. He spoke to Gandalf about it, but the Wizard simply smiled and told him to approach his companion directly.

That evening, cold winds swept in from the north, covering the grass and dead leaves in a fine frost. Bilbo scoured the woods near their campsite and returned with a bundle of mint and wintergreen leaves. He dried the leaves and crushed them with a small stone, before fashioning makeshift teabags from scraps of a torn shirt. Bofur, who had provided the ruined garment, taunted Bilbo for his domestic ways, but gratefully accepted a mug of the warm brew. As the Dwarves huddled about their small fire, some nursing pints of ale and others warming their bellies with the Hobbit's mint tea, Bilbo slipped away.

The Company had elected a small hillock near the camp as a watch-post, and it was there that the small burglar found Thorin, gazing back at the fire and his kin, telling jokes and stories to strive off the cold. He watched in trepidation as the Hobbit stumbled up the rise towards him, clutching a large, steaming mug to his chest. The Dwarf King had been purposefully avoiding his friend for several days now, unsure of how to approach him. His nephews had forced him to come to a troubling realization— that of his own feelings for Bilbo. Thorin knew now that his affection for the little creature went beyond that of a simple traveling companion. No, he was now looked upon as a brother… or perhaps even more.

As Bilbo reached the crest of the hill, Thorin forced his brooding features into an expression of amicable welcome. "Greetings, burglar."

"Come now, Thorin," the Hobbit replied, handing him the mug he carried, "we've been through enough together now, you could at least call me by my first name."

The Dwarf shot him a fleeting smile. "Of course, Bilbo. Thank you." He sniffed the contents of the cup warily. The pleasant odor of mint and evergreen wafted up, warm and welcoming. The first sip of tea instantly reminded Thorin of the first time he had laid eyes on his Hobbit— the scent of the pinewood paneling and the warmth of the hearth that had graced the creature's home were encompassed in this simple drink, and quickly soothed Thorin's restless thoughts.

He smiled softly at his companion, shifting to make room for him on the small, grassy knoll. The Dwarf had spread his cloak like a blanket of the ground for warmth, and Bilbo ran his fingers through the soft fur as he sank down by Thorin's side. He returned the smile shyly, explaining that he had brewed his favorite drink in hopes of relaxing the Company; "it always comforts me, so I thought it might do the same for you," he said, nervously shifting his eyes from the Dwarf's face to his own knees. "Then again, I suppose I like it because it reminds me of home, and you don't live in the Shire, so I don't know why I thought…"

Bilbo trailed off at the sound his companion was emitting. A deep, throaty chuckle was rumbling from Thorin's throat, his eyes glinting with merriment. "It is of no concern, Bilbo," he assured the small burglar. "I may not have a home as comfortable as yours, but I take solace in the sight of my friends and family enjoying themselves." Without thinking, he pulled the Hobbit against his side, squeezing his shoulder firmly. "You've done well tonight, Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo flushed slightly at his leader's praise. "You think so?"

"Of course," Thorin assured him, "You're quickly becoming the heart of this little group, burglar."

Bilbo smiled and nudged the Dwarf's side lightly. "So if you're the head, and I'm the heart, what does that make us?"

"Believe me, I've been asking myself the same." Thorin muttered, tugging the Hobbit closer against his side. And truly, with the so-called heart of his band so close, the Dwarf Lord could feel his own pick up pace, and a certain calm sweep over him. The small creature in his arms made Thorin feel at peace, more so than since his journey had begun. To him, Bilbo Baggins truly made a difference.

\---

Later that night, after Bilbo had returned to camp, as he was on the verge of dozing off curled in his bedroll by the dying fire, he thought of Thorin's words. Was he truly the heart of the Company? He knew that the Dwarves liked him, he had made good friends in several, but to be considered a centrifugal part of the group... the little Hobbit was nearly overwhelmed by his gratitude.

As he lay half-conscious, considering the implications of the Dwarves' trust and respect, Bilbo was startled by a noise to his right. He jolted, turning to where Thorin was unrolling his fur bedding beside him. The Dwarf's bedroll was nearly overlapping the Hobbit's, they were so close, and when he lay down Bilbo could feel the warmth emanating from him. When his questioning gaze met Thorin's tired one, the Dwarf Lord chuckled softly. "Get some rest, my friend," he advised, "we have a long day ahead of us." Safe in the knowledge that his leader watched over him, Bilbo found himself quickly pulled into the comfort of sleep.

Once again, the small burglar's mind was plagued by visions of the Mountain. It was becoming a recurring nightmare; the heavy wings and burning gaze of Smaug followed Bilbo through his dreams, leaving him shuddering in fear by morning. On this night, however, his restless slumber was broken by the touch of another's hands, gently shaking him into consciousness.

Bilbo jerked awake, blinking into the concerned face of his Dwarven friend. Thorin's brow was furrowed in worry, his large hands still cupping the Hobbit's shoulders. Bilbo was still half gone, memories of his nightmare flickering behind his eyelids. He mumbled dazedly, gazing at the Dwarf as though not truly seeing him.

"Bilbo?" Thorin's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, as though addressing a child. "What ails you, my friend?" He shook the burglar's shoulders once more, attempting to snap him out of his reverie. This time, he appeared to succeed. Bilbo shook his head rapidly, his eyes widening as he noticed the Dwarf above him for the first time.

"Thorin?" He murmured in confusion, "Has morning come so soon?"

His companion frowned, uncomprehending. "No, of course not. You were crying out in your sleep; is everything alright, my friend?"

The little Hobbit nodded, unconsciously leaning forward to rest his head on Thorin's shoulder. "It was a bad dream, nothing more." He shifted closer as the Dwarf King rubbed circles in his still-shuddering back. "You are shivering," the latter noted with concern, "the cold weather must be affecting you."  
Before he was fully aware of what had happened, Bilbo found himself laying in his bedroll once more, back pressed to Thorin's chest, the Dwarf's warm breath fluttering against his hair.

"Thorin, wha-?" he could feel his leader's voice rumbling through his own chest as the Dwarf King silenced his protests. "Hush, burglar. It is time you rest. Peacefully, now."

"But-" "No. Sleep." Bilbo sighed, realizing that questioning his friend's actions was pointless, and allowed himself to be tucked more firmly into the Dwarf's arms. Thorin was quite warm, he mused. His right arm lay snugly across the Hobbit's waist, holding him firmly against his broad chest. The last thought Bilbo entertained, before sleep took over his mind once more, was that he could most certainly grow accustomed to this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, chapter 3! Before we begin, I'd just like to thank you all so, so much for your kudos and comments! You guys are great :3  
> Now, onwards to cuddle time!

Life on the road was always hard. The Dwarves of Thorin's Company had reconciled themselves to this fact over years of travel; even Gandalf has done a great deal of wandering in his day, and was accustomed to the frugal lifestyle that the wilderness demanded. However, the fourteenth member of the band was entirely unused to going without the small comfort. For Bilbo Baggins, the greatest challenge of this adventure was not the Orcs or the Wargs; it was not the landslides and storms and giant men of stone, each seemingly set on wreaking havoc on the group of travelers. No, for Bilbo, the true struggle was the travel itself. The domestic little Hobbit, used to living a simple and sedentary life, was having a difficult time adjusting to the rough and tumble of the Dwarf's wayfaring ways. Never before had he gone so long without the simple comfort of a cup of tea and a good book. He was appalled when informed that heated baths were a commodity he would have to forgo. If you had told Bilbo a mere month ago that he would ever miss jam so much, why, he would have laughed in your face. As it was, the poor creature was suffering greatly, beaten down by discomfort and homesickness. And thus far, he thought morosely as they trudged onwards, no one seemed to have noticed.

This, however, was where Bilbo was mistaken. Seemingly not thirty seconds after this self-pitying thought crossed the Hobbit's mind, he felt a substantial weight lifted from his back. Looking up in confusion, he saw Thorin swinging the Hobbit's own pack across his shoulders, purposefully avoiding his gaze.

"Thorin, wha-?" The Dwarf leader silenced his protest with a glare. "You're of no use to me weak with exhaustion, burglar," he replied gruffly, dropping his eyes back to the muddy ground. "I can carry your load until you've regained your strength."

Bilbo was taken aback. Although his leader had shown him considerable kindness in the past weeks, the Hobbit was still unsure of how to react. Murmuring his thanks, he followed Thorin and the others as they continued though the oppressive gloom of Mirkwood.

Dinner was scarce that night. The Company's supplies were nearly depleted, and there was little game to be caught in the dark, murky forest. As Bilbo picked tiredly at the chunky stew, Bombur spoke up from across the fire. "Are you going to finish that, master Hobbit?" Bilbo blinked up at him, weariness clouding his mind.

Before he could respond, Bofur addressed Bombur himself; "Why would he want to? Our burglar is used to the finer things in life, and this supper certainly doesn't rank."

"If Mister Baggins has a problem with my stew, let him address me directly," Dori grumbled, poking at the fire and glaring at Bilbo. As the others chimed in, each adding his own opinions on the meal, the Hobbit began to feel quite overwhelmed. He set his bowl carefully on the ground and rose, ready to slip away from the argument. He turned to leave… and ran headlong into the fur-clad wall of Thorin's chest. Bilbo jumped back with a squeak, hoping that the Dwarf King was not too cross, but Thorin's gaze was directed elsewhere. Even as he reached out to steady the Hobbit, he was glaring out at his bickering kinsmen. Spinning Bilbo to face the fire and keeping a possessive grip on his shoulders, the Dwarf addressed his Company sternly.

"What in Durin's name are you fools playing at?" he demanded. "Do you think this is some child's tea party? Have you forgotten the creatures that lurk in these trees?" The Dwarves had fallen silent, shuffling their feet and gazing abashedly at the ground. Finally, Bifur gathered the courage to speak up. "We were only enjoying a moment of jest. The Hobbit-"

"Don't you drag him into this!" Thorin thundered. "The Halfling was only minding his manners, you bungling fools nearly chased him off. I wager he's still trembling." Bilbo halfheartedly tried to protest the Dwarf King's assumption, but he was weary from travel. And besides, his tired brain supplied, if he told Thorin he was alright, he would lose this wonderful warmth… some time during his lecture, the Dwarf had unconsciously pulled Bilbo flush against his chest, holding the Hobbit possessively against himself. Bilbo, too tired to protest, leaned back into Thorin's arms, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander. He had a nice, soft bed back home. It was nearly as warm and comfortable as the Dwarf's embrace…

Thorin's voice snapped the Hobbit out of his reverie. "…Halfling? Bilbo? Are you listening to me?"

"What?" the Hobbit murmured, blinking up at his companion. "You dozed off, you foolish creature," Thorin clarified, "the others are preparing for sleep. I would too, but I feared you would collapse if I released you."

Fili and Kili, rolling out their bedding nearby, grinned cheekily at their uncle. "If he's tired, we can look after him," Kili offered, his eyes glinting with mischief. Thorin sent them a glare that would have sent many men running for cover. "You mind yourself," he growled at the young dwarves. Bilbo looked between them in confusion, but shrugged it off as mere family banter. Stumbling slightly, still weary, he set off to wash and prepare his bedroll.

\---

The rough cloth and bucket that the Dwarves used to wash their hands and faces was nothing compared to his nice clean bath at home, Bilbo mused, splashing cold water into his face to rouse himself. Though it was nighttime, he resolved that he should be at least conscious enough to find his bedroll. Yawning and stretching, the Hobbit trotted over to his pack – abandoned where Thorin had dropped it as they made camp – and unrolled his thin bedding. He lay down uncomfortably, wishing more than ever for the downy quilt of his own bed.

As Bilbo was mourning the hard ground and rough blankets, he was interrupted by the sound of another bedroll tossed down beside his. One glance at the heavy fur blankets made the owner of the bedding obvious. "What are you doing here, Thorin," the muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment. His earlier actions had finally dawned on him, and the little burglar was thoroughly mortified. To think he'd practically fallen asleep on Thorin's shoulder, just when the Dwarf King was finally gaining some respect for him. He was surely judging Bilbo now, thinking of him as weak and unworthy of his trust…

But Thorin's eyes were smiling as he lowered himself onto his bedroll. "I noticed you looking uncomfortable, Halfling," he said, "My blankets are thicker; you may share them, if you wish." Bilbo noted with some consternation that the proud Dwarf looked almost nervous. Even so, he had his own pride to think of.

"There is no need to insult me, Thorin," the Hobbit huffed, "I may not be as accustomed to travel as you, but I am not a child. I can handle a few sore muscles." Thorin looked almost hurt as Bilbo turned his back on him. "I meant no offence," he assured the small burglar, "I was merely trying to help."

"You've been awfully nice lately," Bilbo noted, turning his head back towards Thorin, "Is there any particular reason?"

To his surprise, the Dwarf let out a sharp bark of laughter. He was smiling on earnest now, his eyes warm as he gazed upon his confused little companion. However, rather than give him an answer, Thorin simply pulled Bilbo onto his bedroll, tucking the Hobbit into a firm embrace. The smaller gave a startled squeak, which was muffled against the Dwarf's shoulder. Thorin had one arm about the Hobbit's shoulders, the other gently grasping his waist, and had turned slightly so that Bilbo was lying nearly on top of him.

"We seem to be making a habit of this…" Bilbo squeaked, attempting to dissipate his own embarrassment. Thorin merely hummed his agreement, the sound sending vibrations rumbling pleasantly through the Hobbit's frame. Without thinking, he snuggled deeper into Thorin's embrace.

Suddenly freezing, Bilbo leaned up as to look his leader in the eye. "You never answered my question, you know," he prompted. "Why are you being so nice to me?" He let out another quiet squeak as Thorin deftly flipped them on the bedroll, so that the Hobbit was beneath him and gently enveloped in his arms.

"Because I am comforted by your presence, Halfling," he admitted softly, "and because of all the familiar things on this wild quest, you are the one to remind me the most of home."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second-to-last chapter, my lovelies! I just want to say thank you all again for your wonderful reviews! Your enthusiasm is the only thing keeping me writing, and I love every one of you for it!
> 
> There's a bit of action and Warg-smashing in this chapter, so if you don't like violence, you may want to skip that. Of course, if you don't like violence, I'm not sure why you're in the LoTR/Hobbit fandom to begin with... Whatever~ Enjoy the story!

As their journey through the dark forest stretched on, the entirety of Thorin's company noticed a certain closeness developing between their leader and one Bilbo Baggins. Indeed, several had already taken wagers on when the Thorin's affection for the burglar would blossom into open courtship. As such, it was no surprise when, in a moment of distress, the Dwarf King's feelings finally showed through his actions.

The Wargs had attacked in the night, charging from the depths of Mirkwood and surrounding the camp in minutes. They were feral beasts, trained by Orc masters long ago to despise Dwarfs and Men, but acting under no order. They fought brutally, driven by hunger and the fear of the unknown. The little band of warriors was soon pressed together, back to back in the center of their destroyed encampment, two dozen of the lean creatures circling them with teeth bared.

The battle was swift and bloody. Wargs charged at the cluster of Dwarves alone or in pairs, and were driven back each time with swords and axes. Several of the beasts were slain, but others soon learned to use the bodies of their pack-mates as shields, springing from behind them with stealth and the element of surprise. It was in one of these moments that the King's life was thrown into peril.

Thorin was facing away from the Warg corpse, defending his comrades from a fresh onslaught, when a particularly fearsome specimen came creeping from behind its fallen comrade. It was snarling, low in its throat, and its flank was scarred with proof of previous skirmishes. As it was positioned on the outskirts of the battle, many of the Company were oblivious to its presence. Indeed, it seemed that only one was becoming aware of the danger to his leader.

Bilbo, for all his courage, had been avoiding the thick of the tussle. Hobbits are small creatures, easily overlooked and easily trodden on amidst the panic of battle. It would be a fine thing if he met his death at the feet of one of his companions. As he fended off a smaller Warg, Sting flashing in the low moonlight, the burglar caught a glimpse of movement in his periphery. Slicing the beast currently occupying his attention across the snout, causing it to flee with a whimper, Bilbo spun to see another Warg crouching atop the carcass of its fellow, preparing to spring. Following the creature's line of sight, the Hobbit's heart stuttered in his breast. The Warg's target was clear: Thorin, jaw clenched and eyes blazing, wielding Orcrist with a steely determination.

Without second thought, Bilbo rushed towards the offending creature, crying out a warning to his King. Both Thorin and the Warg turned, the Dwarf starting towards him, eyes widening, and the Warg snarling menacingly. As Bilbo swiped his sword desperately at the creature, it lifted a single heavy paw, swiping the little Hobbit aside like a dead leaf. Bilbo barely had time to register the stinging pain in his chest before he hit the rocky ground with a thud, breath leaving his body in a sudden rush.

With a cry, Thorin charged at the Warg, Orcrist slicing through its neck in one fell blow. The beast fell to the forest floor, head nearly severed from its body. Nearby, Gandalf had lit several torches, and the Company was using them to chase the final Wargs back into the forest. However, the Dwarf King was in no mood to celebrate his victory. Without a second glance at the Warg he had slain, Thorin dropped to his knees beside his burglar. Bilbo had several slashes across his chest, not deep enough to do serious damage, but surely painful nonetheless. The Dwarf yanked Bilbo up and grabbed his arms without a second thought, shaking him roughly.

"What were you thinking?" Thorin demanded, "You could have been killed! Have you no concept of danger, Halfling? Is there some mental affliction that forces you to constantly place yourself in harm's way?"

Bilbo was blinking up at him, wide-eyed and confused. Thorin realized, with a sharp guilt, that he had once again managed to push the burglar away. "I was only trying to help," Bilbo muttered. The Dwarf could nearly see the walls being thrown up within the Hobbit's mind, hear the doubt niggling at his companion's brain, telling him that his leader did not need or want his company. And, Thorin mentally shouted at the oblivious creature, this could not be further from the truth.

Without another thought, Thorin pulled the Hobbit further into his arms, sealing their lips together in a firm kiss. The sheer terror the Dwarf had felt, combined with the relief at seeing Bilbo safe and sound, drove him to keep his Hobbit firmly tucked against his body, arms about his back and mouth pressed against Bilbo's soft lips. At that moment, Thorin was sure he could have stayed there forever, simply assuring himself that his companion was safe, that everything was f going to be fine.

Of course, such a fate was far too pleasant to play out in reality. All too soon, the Hobbit was pulling away, blushing and stammering, and Thorin was fleeing before he could stop himself, making his excuses and beating a hasty retreat. The others watched on in worry, though they were not concerned enough to stop money from casually exchanging hands.

\---

Over the next few days, Bilbo's wounds healed swiftly at the aid of Balin's medical expertise. Thorin avoided him, partially because he did not think he could handle the sight of the Hobbit's open cuts, but mostly to delay his inevitable rejection. The Dwarf King could see no possible way in which their situation could have a positive outcome.

In the end, it was Bilbo who sought out the Dwarf. He found his leader in the most predictable spot: on a rocky outcropping a short way from camp, standing with one hand on his sword hilt and gazing into the distance. The Hobbit approached him quietly, announcing his presence with a light cough when he stood not twenty feet form the Dwarf.

Thorin swiveled sharply, his shoulders relaxing when he saw Bilbo's open smile. "I've missed you, my king," the Hobbit confessed, only half-teasing. "Since we… well, since the other day, I feared you were going to avoid my company indefinitely."

"I might have," Thorin replied, coming down from his ledge to stand face-to-face with his Hobbit, "had you not taken me by surprise. In all honesty, I was not quite sure how to approach you."

The Hobbit's eyes twinkled with merriment. "You're a majestic king, Thorin; I'm sure you would have thought of something."

Thorin matched his tone as he answered, lighthearted teasing concealing the true sentiment behind his words. "Do not underestimate yourself, little one; you have shown your hand in battle more than once. You have become a fair fighter, and a most valuable ally."

"If I am," Bilbo countered, "it is only because of what you have taught me." His light smile faded, and his tone grew more somber. "You always have my loyalty, Thorin, if it is needed."

The Dwarf King turned away, attempted to hide his reddening cheeks. The gratitude and affection he felt for the Halfling was not something he could afford to reveal. "You have greatly improved," he muttered offhandedly.

"Well then," Bilbo's voice was taunting once more, "I am greatly humbled to receive such high praise from one so mighty." He bowed mockingly, glancing up at Thorin with an open grin.

Thorin reached forward to ruffle his friend's hair before he could stop himself. "Stand up, Bilbo. You shouldn't have to bow to me, even in jest." The mood was growing serious once more, yet the Dwarf felt that there were things that needed saying.

Bilbo, in turn, simply smiled reassuringly. "I can't help but feel honored, Thorin. You are not one to give out praise lightly, and I'm still so grateful that you've changed your opinion of me."

"Don't feel to highly praised," Thorin grumbled, "it is nothing but simple affection."

"But I have heard," Bilbo hazarded, hesitant, "that Dwarven kindness, off the battlefield, is often more than mere friendship."

Thorin nodded, avoiding the Hobbit's curious gaze. "It is true that sentiment is rare among my people." He hesitated, not sure how to continue. "You… you must not take my words fro granted, master Baggins, when I confess that I hold you in the very highest regard."

The Hobbit, though he could feel the blood rising to his cheeks, merely huffed impatiently. "Why must your kind be so confusing?" he griped. "We Hobbits are so uncomplicated when it comes to our emotions!"

"Come now, Halfling!" Thorin was close to begging; even among Dwarves, he was not one for talking about his feelings. "Must I be so blunt?"

Bilbo's smile was almost roguish in its mischief. "It would certainly help; that way, I wouldn't have to run in circles all the time, trying to figure out what you mean!"

Thorin huffed, ducking his head to hide his growing blush. "If I must spell out my feelings for you, Halfling, I do admit to harboring… no little affection for you, both as a friend, and—" here he paused, nervous, "—perhaps something… more." Glancing up to see his companion's reassuring smile, Thorin gained a bit of his confidence back. He smiled back at Bilbo, somewhat sheepishly. "I am sorry for my lack of tact regarding these matters…"

The Hobbit's only response was to pull Thorin down to his height, placing a chaste kiss on the Dwarf's lips before wrapping his arms about his neck and burrowing his face into the King's neck. Thorin smiled, pulling his Hobbit closer and inhaling the comforting scent of his hair. "Though it seems unnecessary," he asked quietly, "What are your… feelings on this matter?"

Bilbo pulled away, blushing openly now. "As you know, I t-trust you with my life." He stuttered slightly, nerves getting the better of him. "And I cannot deny that I do feel something more. I have a feeling it is the same 'more' that you cannot find a name for."

"You truly mean that, Halfling?"

Bilbo nodded, swallowing nervously. "I am… quite certain that I do."

Thorin, still unsure, could not help but ask again; "You… you really want to be with me?"

The Halfling smiled, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Thorin's hair and pulling him down so their foreheads met. "I can't see why I wouldn't, or would ever want to be with another."

The Dwarf King let out a sigh of relief, leaning into his companion's touch. "You cannot know how happy you make me, my love."

Bilbo stiffened at Thorin's words. "Your… love?" The Dwarf pulled away worriedly, but Bilbo simply smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. "If your happiness is anything close to how I feel right now, I do believe I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have a confession! What will happen next? Well, there's only one chapter left, and I can't bear to put my babies through anything too painful (I'm a cuddle addict, I swear), so I promise it'll be a happy ending :3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, my loves! Last chapter of my very first Hobbit fanfic! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

For Bilbo, the next few days passed in a happy blur. Though the forest was dark and nearly overwhelming, the joy of his newfound love kept the little Hobbit in a cheery mood. The Company looked on in amusement and fondness, as their leader and burglar quietly grew bolder, soon showing their affection for each other openly. They walked together each day, slept in each other's arms at night. It was common to see them sitting quietly together by the campfire, Bilbo resting his head on Thorin's chest or carefully braiding his hair and beard. The other Dwarves were most supportive of their companions' courtship, and were happy to give their blessing. In all, though food was scarce and the road hard, the couple could not be happier.

After the adventure of Mirkwood, safe in the halls of Lake-Town, Thorin and Bilbo enjoyed their first private moment since their capture at Thranduil's hands. The Hobbit had slipped into the lavish room that the Men of Lake-Town had given the Dwarf King, and was now tucked safely into the downy bed, pressed against his lover's side. Thorin ran his fingers through Bilbo's hair, stroking the Hobbit's furrowed brow.

"What troubles you, little one?" Thorin's voice was laden with concern.

"It's nothing," Bilbo assured him. "Only, we're so close to the mountain now, and I've been wondering… what will we do, once the Dragon is gone? I always expected to return to the Shire, but now…" he trailed off doubtfully, hand tightening around the light cloth of Thorin's tunic.

The Dwarf lifted his hand, the one not buried in his Hobbit's curls, and covered the smaller one clutching at his chest. He squeezed Bilbo's fingers reassuringly, lacing their hands together. Sighing, he gazed down at the little creature curled into his side. This moment would decide everything.

"Bilbo…" he started doubtfully, arms tightening about his lover, "I know you have expressed your concern about home… and that I don't have a place to call mine. Even though I am confident that we will reclaim my mountain, I am not so sure that I will be happy there. I have come to realize that my home… is wherever you are. Indeed," he finished nervously, "I no longer want to rule Erebor, if you are not by my side."

Bilbo sat up, hands resting lightly on the other's chest. "Thorin, what are you asking me?"

Thorin pulled himself upright, face-to-face with his Hobbit. "I'm asking you to join me in Erebor." The Dwarf King's brow was furrowed in worry, his eyes downcast.

"Oh, Thorin!" Bilbo sighed, leaning forward to wrap his arms about his lover's neck. "I'm sure that we will reclaim your kingdom, and I would love nothing more than to stay by your side, forever."

"Thank you so much, Halfling." Thorin let out a grateful side, slipping his arms around the Hobbit's waist and pulling him close. With his face buried in Bilbo's shoulder, the little burglar nearly missed his next words. "By Durin, I love you."

The little Hobbit gave a squeak of surprise, sharply pulling out of Thorin's embrace. The Dwarf King had never confessed his love so openly before. Seeing his companion's suddenly apprehensive face, the Hobbit smiled warmly. Bilbo wove his hands into the thick hair behind Thorin's ears, pulling him forward and into a deep kiss.

Thorin moaned deeply against the Hobbit's lips, holding the burglar tightly against himself. Bilbo smiled into the kiss, pulling himself closer and clinging for dear life. The little creature felt utterly overwhelmed by the love and longing rushing through him. Thorin, for his part, was immensely relieved that his Hobbit had accepted his feelings at all. He swore to himself then, on the names of his father's fathers, that he would never let this beautiful creature go.

Hours later, tangled up in Thorin's arms and stroking abstract patterns on his bare chest, Bilbo spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't return your sentiment earlier." "Do not worry, little one," Thorin chuckled, "You were otherwise occupied, after all."

Bilbo blushed hotly. "Well, I do. Love you, I mean. It's just, the more you show your affection, the more flustered I get, and I don't know how… But, I love you too. I really do."

Thorin sighed, pulling the Hobbit closer against his side. "You make this journey worth while, little one."

"And you make it something wonderful," Bilbo murmured, dropping a light kiss to the Dwarf's neck. Thorin shuddered lightly, then smiled down at his lover. "You know, Halfling, despite my initial impression of you, I'm glad you had the courage to step out your door that first day…" he hesitated a moment, then finished in a rush. "Indeed, it may be the best thing ever to happen to me."

Bilbo's blush deepened, and he hid his face against Thorin's bare shoulder. "Yes, well," he stuttered, "I've always been more of a Took than a Baggins, So, er, I'm not really surprised." He glanced up at the smiling Dwarf King, and then abashedly hid his face once more. "I-I did regret it at times, but then I realized w-where my loyalties lie."

Thorin tilted the Hobbit's chin up, meeting his eyes with a gaze of unbridled love. Bilbo smiled shyly back, before speaking up once more. "More than that," he confessed quietly, "I realized that I had fallen in love. With the Dwarf King himself… With a wonderful man."

With a smile to rival the brightness of the Arkenstone, Thorin pulled Bilbo close, nuzzling his face into the Hobbit's soft curls. "Thank you, my love," he whispered. "I could not ask for a happier ending to a truly glorious tale."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that was so short, and for the utter cheesiness of the ending! This was really just a formality, the plot sort of ended last chapter...
> 
> Partial credit for the dialogue in this chapter (and chapter 4) goes to zappypup on Tumblr, who engaged me in the wonderful Bagginshield RP that inspired those scenes. Couldn't have done it without you, love~
> 
> Speaking of Tumblr, my URL is demonsofslash. Hit up my ask box if you have a story prompt or suggestion! I love writing, and I'm always happy to indulge my fellow Bagginshielders! It's been wonderful writing for you~
> 
> Always at your Service,  
> Seb


End file.
